


aug.men.ta.tion

by unusual_hero



Category: 2PM (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Romance, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 16:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5750554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unusual_hero/pseuds/unusual_hero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>noun.</em> to add to something, in order to improve or complete it.</p>
<p>Minjun is in a profound state of detachment after changing his name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	aug.men.ta.tion

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble that came to mind when thinking of Minjun's name change, and how close he and Taecyeon have become these days.

There were days when MinJun felt really plastic. Days that went beyond waking each morning and stretching limbs that were sore and compressed from dancing for long hours, working vocalizations through overused vocal chords... Beyond looking into the mirror at a face that had become aged and unhappy over a span of mere months...

He had changed his name to become more real, and yet day after day it seemed he was losing more of himself. He'd spend what felt like hours in front of the mirror in his bathroom, staring into it, and chanting that word again and again, until his reflection seemed to take on a double of his old self, nearly changed, before it slicked down the sink drain. Same high and drawn cheekbones; same vacant eyes; same smile-less face.

Just like any other time, he'd flicked the light switch off, gone on with his day.

  
When he thinks about it now, he doesn't know how or why Taecyeon became involved in everything. He guessed it was only natural; when  everything appears to become unstable, the ground shakes beneath your feet, the world's colors fade and dry out; no matter how much you want to stop fighting, at that last second you reach out with desperation for something to hold on to and grab whatever is in front of you.

The man turned out to be a strong anchor.

In reality, he had given up on trying to make it work with the man early on- and by work, he meant doing all the things idols did- Skinship. Anyone who wanted to could see how hard he worked to slide into the chasm left behind by their leader's departure. That was impossible. They had awkward conversation, if they spoke. Their contact was unfamiliar and forced. There just wasn't any room for any kind of _relationship_ , fake or otherwise. Despite that feeling of being a virtual outsider, he welcomed the contact whenever it came.  And when it happened, the giant's sudden interest was inexplicable, and yet Minjun could never say no to the rush of feeling he got from it.

   
In a span of months,  Taecyeon had begun watching him, and touching him. It was odd at first, on camera Minjun never had to worry about avoiding or flinching away from the man because it was never an issue. But when Taecyeon purposefully sought him out, dipping to whisper into his ear, his hands falling against his back, innocently against his hips, Minjun was stunned. 

Part of him wanted to ask what had suddenly changed- he didn't.

\------

The days he felt like plastic were becoming few and far between. His past seemed more like particles, sand memories that slipped through his fingers, through cracks that hadn’t formed yet, hadn't  been perceived. Taecyeon was magical in the way he made things disappear. No one said anything, when they slipped against each-other with the ease of a couple that had shared the same space for decades, while still holding that new nervousness; when their fingers accidentally brushed when moving through the crowded terminals, long, silent stares that became wanton gazes; Taecyeon's all encompassing aura surrounding him; Minjun liked to fantasize that it was protective.

No one said a word when Chansung began slipping out of hotel rooms to take longer walks or talks on the phone with family and friends. The first time Taecyeon invited him over was under the guise of the three of them watching a Star Wars movie. But somehow Chansung ended up leaving before it started, and Minjn never got to see what happened to Princess Leia. Like Minjun, Taecyeon was a genius, and his mind was full of ideas. Taecyeon showed none of the shy reservations he had three years ago. Minjun himself had been convinced he was disinterested in sex up until the moment Taecyeon kissed him on the mouth- he was wrong. He found he liked to be dominated, held down, his darkest desires came rushing to the surface, where the tall man was waiting to engulf them. All Minjun could do was cling to him once he figured out Minjun liked it. 

It had been almost a year of this, when the singer had began to feel the shift, the weak and squirming thing that he was started growing wings.

Was this affection? There were dark eyes always watching him, strong arms always embracing him, firm hands knowing when to help, and to hurt (he was grateful for the hurt), pressing with just the right amount of pressure to break his hardened skin. Taecyeon knew, perhaps having become hard himself, all the right places to push, get the feeling going, to put their bodies in glaring perspective, against each-other and against the light of the outsiders who didn't have a clue what they were going through. When MinJun was alone with Taecyeon, he had never felt so moved. He could cry about his father, lack of appreciation from his country and his company- and Taecyeon was there, ears listening, hands soothing as they turned his mind to other things. He wanted to say- to scream- I’m real, I’m alive, I’m _loved_. 

\--------

There are still days he feels insecure. Though they are even fewer and farther between. This morning he had woken like his apartment was on fire, the warmth of the body in the bathroom already receding from the wrinkled sheets, the space where he swiped a palm already feeling depression-less. "What if I wake up and you don’t love me anymore?" Minjun had asked the night before, after making love. Taecyeon had been poetically perfect, His hands fatherly, soothing in his hair, His grip, firm against the base of his neck. His body, comforting and sure. Taecyeon had been hurt by his words. And still...

"It makes sense. That you'd ask that." He had said, after their breathing had returned to normal. Minjun was lightheaded and completely lax, and thinking Taecyeon was a god. "Because you lost yourself." That was the truth, yes. He wanted to cling to the soreness in his limbs, and down there, where Taecyeon had been just moments ago, because that made _sense_. He nearly teared up at the prospect of healing.  And then Taecyeon was encircling him in an embrace that left him breathless. That unspoken understanding, that connection, was both what he needed and not enough. And so he held on a little tighter to those encouraging words, and those bare, muscled arms. He pulled him in as close as he could, until their bodies were perfectly aligned and there was no room for even air to come between them.

Taecyeon returns to bed eventually, his eyes still narrowed to slits from how sleepy he is. But Minjun is happy to have him close. He pulls him in when he gets near enough, and Taecyeon's chuckle is a minty breath, gruff against his cheek, and he is almost embarrassed by how much he wants the man again. It's visceral, philosophical. But he can't really linger on it when Taecyeon is heavy and large and warm and all around him.

He seems to sense these things, about Minjun and about them- his hands are rough as they rub arousal back into him, stroking his back, his sides, erogenous zones he never thought he had, activated, as if Taecyeon had known all along. Like he was made for this. Slowly, the warmth begins to spread again, throughout his trembling form as he unravels beneath the larger man, the inflexible shell slaking off... And with the breath of a kiss against his lips, cheekbone, under the eyes, Minjun feels real and beautiful, and the blood running through his veins burns less like a chemical.


End file.
